


Burning Moonlight

by Strawberry_Jam



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angels, Blood, Catholicism, Death, Demons, Demonstuck, Drug Use, F/M, Gun Violence, M/M, Magic, Multi, Occult, Other, Psychological Torture, Religion, Supernatural Elements, Swearing, Tags Will Update As Story Progresses, Torture, Violence, Xeno
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-09-09
Packaged: 2018-01-10 04:22:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1155014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strawberry_Jam/pseuds/Strawberry_Jam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Dietrich Bane Strider," he said loudly, "do you grant verbal consent to the removal and alchemization of your current mortal soul for the life of David Elizabeth Strider, in whatever condition he may arise in, so swear you upon all unholy and decrepit?"</p><p>"...I swear."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Psalm 23:4

“… _though I walk through the valley_  of the shadow of  _death_ ,

_I will fear no evil:_

_for thou art with me…”_

                                The asphalt fell away to the gaping inferno below, cars sliding off of the edge and bursting into flames before they hit the mantle. Smoke clouded the sky, the cries of war hungry demons echoing violently through the crater. He sat, leg crossed over one knee, pipe dangling from his smirking lips. A small demon with a concerned expression stood near his side, his delicate fingers pressed to his cheek in a look that accompanied his soft, "oh, my," as he looked upon the human pair amidst the rubble. The older of the two blonde figures emerged from the gaping threshold with a hoarse, weakened cry, hoisting the smaller boy's body up and tossing it onto the tiled floor, pulling himself up following, elbows bleeding and bruising as he slammed them against the cracking stone and wire to retrieve the rest of his figure.

At last he collapsed beside his brother with a desperate scream, brushing the younger blonde’s hair back from his ash ridden face, tears of blood streaming from his eyes. He winced and twitched, the embers still burning his skin, and with the single snap of the Man's fingers, the opening closed, encasing the room in silence.

"Oh, dear...oh, oh, dear, this will not do," the small demon murmured, clucking disapprovingly. "How did they get in here, Sir?" He asked, to which the Man remained silent, still smirking.

"I've done my part!" The boy hollered, voice cracking in agony, "Now bring him BACK!"

His smile disappeared, a disapproving scowl taking its place. He raised his fingers and snapped, several large humanoid creatures, horrifically disfigured, known as Hellions, approaching the mortals with hostility in his features. The Demon gasped. "Sir!" He said with apparent disapproval. "What do you think you're doing? You-" he looked about before stomping his foot. "You promised, I heard you," he jabbed his finger in His direction. "Intersoullular etiquette clearly states-oh, you know what it states, but..." Kankri crossed his arms. "You promised."

He flinched at His scowl but stayed adamant, and visibly tensed when he saw how close the Hellions came to the mortals.

The human did not flinch, his grip on his brother tightening as he started Him down. Though weak and beaten, he had not lost all fight within him. He struggled to a stand, "I said..." He huffed, blood pooling around him, "bring my brother back." The last of the sentence was hissed through clenched teeth, but his endeavor did not last as he collapsed at the Man's feet with a cry.

"...sir, you did promise," the demon asserted quietly, taking a contract from the high collar of his sweater. "Besides, going back on a promise? What are you, an Imp? No offense to Imps, of course, however..."

This caught His attention. He scowled, snapping his fingers. The Hellions stopped their advance, backing away. The demon looked from Him to the mortals, then once more. "So you're not going to...but-oh well. At least he'll be spared," the demon shrugged. "Can't win them all."

He made his way over to the mortal and his dead kin, covering his mouth. "Oh, my..." he repeated.”Now, now, friend, he's dead. Let us do our job, now-" he tried to shoo away the still living mortal. "Terribly sorry for your loss, but protocols and such-"

"KANKRI!" His voice boomed. The Demon named Kankri straightened up with a shocked expression. "Let them be."

Kankri slinked back to His side, tail curling between his thighs and about his leg, flicking nervously. "Sir-are you going to-"

"QUIET!"

Kankri huffed indignantly, folding his arms. "You're the one breaking promises here. Even The Condesce doesn't do that, and she's-"

He was silenced with another glance, though a pout remained evident on Kankri's face. He looked back to the boy, covered in blood and soot. "You want him back," he repeated lowly.

The boy growled, red eyes narrowing up at the Man. "We had a deal." He demanded, "Or do I have to kill more of you disgusting scum." The blonde coughed violently, blood spattering the floor.

Kankri pulled a disgruntled look, and then paused, shrugging in assent. "You aren't in a position to threaten," He pointed out.

"Shut it!" He hissed towards the demon, blood dripping down his chin.

"Well!" Kankri scoffed. "I'm on -your- side here, Mortal, or did you not notice?"

"Silence, Kankri. Or I'll cut your tongue out again."

Kankri frowned, crossing his arms tight about his chest.

"Let's say I'm willing to uphold my end of the bargain, Strider," He began. "Have you heard of Alchemy?"

"What's it to you?"

"There is a basic law equated with Alchemy, Kankri?"

"The Basic Law states, quite simply, equivalent exchange, following the Theory that Matter may not be created or destroyed, only converted, such as a log turning to ash once burned. This Law serves as the base of Alchemy, and the act itself is impossible without the element of equivalency."

"Thank you," He purred, gazing down at the mortal. "What would that entail in reviving the dead?"

"Oh, sir," Kankri scoffed, rolling his eyes, "you know better than I do that a soul is the requirement for bringing another mortal back from the dead, such is the currency of Hades, hence why it's so expensive to live there."

The Man watched the Mortal carefully to see if he understood.

"What else could you possibly take from me?" He strained, glancing back at the cadaver of his brother.

"Very true..." he gazed at the Mortal longingly. Then he looked to Kankri, who nodded.

"Very well... are you-sure...you want to proceed? Equivalency can be a tad vague and may not be all expected, not to mention soul extraction is a tedious and painful task-" he rambled, before meeting the human's determined gaze. "...very well," he nodded. Kankri removed something from his sleeve, unrolling it. A long contract. "Remove your eyewear and state your full name, clearly, please. These contracts are used to archaic languages only and have a hard time deciphering anything terribly Western."

"You want my shades off," He chuckled dryly, offering a grotesque smirk, "you're gonna have to take 'em off yourself."

Kankri blinked, the sighed, approaching the human hesitantly. His hands shook a bit as he approached him, anxiety evident in his features, hapephobia triggered. He slid them off carefully, folding them and tucking them into his sleeve. "I'll return them at the earliest moment possible. I will take the up most care of them," he promised, returning to the other end of the contract. "Now...if you would, state your name," his voice trembled a bit, still nervous.

"Dietrich Bane Strider." The human proclaimed with whatever ounce of pride he could muster.

The name burned slowly onto every line but the last of the contract, and Kankri cleared his throat. "Dietrich Bane Strider," he said loudly, "do you grant verbal consent to the removal and alchemization of your current mortal soul in exchange for the life of..." he waited patiently for the deceased human's whole name.

" _David Elizabeth Strider_ ," He said through clenched teeth.

"Right. For the life of David Elizabeth Strider, in whatever condition he may arise in, so swear you upon all unholy and decrepit?"

He hung his head lowly, a soul torn and defeated, body trembling as it was riddled with pain.  He was silent for a long moment before obliging with a dark, "I swear."

"Very well. Then by the powers of darkness vested in me by the Highest of Hell's Council, I concede this contract to be immortally binding and irrevocable. Dietrich Bane Strider, please sign in your life upon the dotted line nearest to you," Kankri laid his own end down, standing over it with his hand extended. He drew a silver knife from his sleeve, sliding it over his wrist with ease, his blindingly bright red blood dripping from the laceration onto his end of the contract, burning into the paper with a flash. His razor teeth pressed into his obsidian lip as it bled, eyes glazing over until He snapped Kankri back to attention. He watch Dirk patiently, waiting for the blood offering. "And..." Kankri added. "Brace yourself..." his eyes melted into pure black, as did his teeth and tongue, to look as if he was bleeding melancholy, voice morphing to a low hiss.

Dirk looked from the worn parchment to the Man sitting elevated before him, blood dripping from the gash along his wrist to fingers, coating his palm. Never tearing his gaze away, he slammed his hand down on the contract, and in retaliation he let out a blood curdling scream; head tossing back obscenely, mouth agape, a forceful cloud of smoke, the color of ember and pure light, expelled itself from his body. It filled the atmosphere with a blinding white light, all while the blonde’s cries of agony persisted, before it was suddenly gone.

Dirk slumped over, collapsing to the ground lifelessly, the hand print signing his life away smearing across the page.

Kankri stared at the mortal, inhaling Dirk's gaseous soul until it floated visibly behind his eyes and gaping black mouth. He closed it quickly to prevent it escaping along with his eyes, approaching the deceased human and kneeling beside him, ducking his head low and pressing his lips to the mortal's, expelling the now silver-tarnished soul into his mouth, one hand resting on the human's chest, the other supporting the demonic vessel as he breathed the spirit into the boy, his chest rising. Kankri pulled away, wisps of smoke escaping his nose and eyes as his scleras and irises came back into view, fogged over. He sighed, smoke whirling out of his breath, and smiled languorously, watching the gossamer spirit wisp away in the air. " _Angels_..." he murmured, more smoke curling from between his lips as the two bodies were dragged away by  the Hellions.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave's grip on the sink tightened, and he found himself unable to look away.
> 
> "The Lord is my Sheppard..." He spoke through clenched teeth.
> 
> The sudden sounding of the motel room's front door swinging open pulled his attention away. Quickly, he pulled on his clothes; a pair of his favorite shirt and jeans, and stepped out, shaking the towel along his golden locks, still wet.

                Dirk turned the doorknob, eager to get out of the sunlight, no matter how clouded it was with sulfur and dirt, the heat still and stifling. He shut the door behind him, frowning when he found Dave snoring contently through the alarm signifying nightfall in an hour. He shut the alarm off, smacking his younger brother in the head good naturedly. "Up and at 'em, Lizzy. Sun sets in an hour. Get packed up," he undid his jeans, kicking them off, removing his glasses and crawling into the other side of the bed. "Wake me up in an hour."

Dave only muffled a response into the pillow, turning over, sprawling himself out against Dirk.

The two slept together for the remainder of the hour.

-o-

          The blinding illumination of the moon soon seeped through the drawn curtains, awakening the younger of the two Striders. Eyes fluttering open with a painful glare to his sensitive irises, he yawned incredulously, sitting up, a hand subconsciously reaching for his shaded glasses that sat on the small night stand beside the bed. He looked to his older sibling, who had, obviously, been up for some time now, standing by the dresser and tossing clothes into a worn duffle bag. Slipping his glasses on, he ran a hand through his messy tuft of ash blonde hair. "Hot date last night?"

"You could say that," The other conceded, uncapping a water bottle and taking a swig of it, then tossing it to Dave. "Shower. Dunno when we'll get somewhere with a well next. Clothes are laid out on the sink for you."

"If it's that duck sweater again I swear I'll never let you live it down." Dave conceded, voice still gritted and raw from sleep. He tossed off the covers off to reveal he was in nothing more than his spade boxers. "I'll wear it." He lifted himself off the bed with one swift movement, stretching fully once he had his feet on the shag carpeting. "Along with a sign that says, "I'm Dirk Strider's brother; please feel free to kick both his and my ass." He then shuffled sleepily off to the bathroom.

            The creak of the rusted hinges as the door came to a close was soon followed, expectantly, by the loud pounding of the water against the plastic shower frame. Dave stepped in; sighing with relief as the warm water beaded down over his sore muscles, washing off the dried blood and dirt he had accumulated over the past week or so.

No one ever said living life as a renegade demon hunter would be easy.

-o-

          Dirk stared absently at the duffel bag for a moment, thoughts wandering. Kankri had gotten taller, he had noticed. The Man was still the same, as was his domain. Dave didn't know it but the duck sweater had gotten burned in a fight with a pyrotech he had to bring in. He continued to gaze absently at where the corners of the chest of drawers met, picking at it with his nail, then just picking at his nail. He began to go through the drawers, then the bedside table, looking for anything useful he could find. In the bottom drawer, he found a Bible. He went to pick it up, but hissed in pain at the way it burned, dropping it back into the drawer instantly. He sighed, recalling the verses his Bro made him recite when he acted up. He knocked on the bathroom door. "Hey, I'm gonna go look around for anything we can use. Be back in a bit."

"Try not to die," Dave called back, a twinge of sarcasm lacing with his voice as it ricocheted off the hollowed cavern that was the shower.

-o-

         Once alone, the room door clicking to a close behind Dirk, the water ceased to fall, the loud cry of the knob turning left irritably the only sound present. Dave pulled back the curtain, reaching a scarred arm out to grab hold of a towel.

Glancing it over, he assumed it had more than likely been already used, and that it wasn't clean.

The blonde shrugged. It was the best he could get.

         Wrapping it around himself, the teen stepped out of the makeshift tub and into the steam filled room, his chest almost heavy with the heat that swirled about him. With a subtle glance at the clothes Dirk had left him, Dave grabbed his tooth brush from a bag sitting conveniently near. Running it under water briefly, still hot from the shower's endeavor, he lathered it in toothpaste.

        Rinsing his mouth out vigorously in the moments that followed, he briefly caught sight of his reflection, smeared by the steam. He reached out a hand to clear away a small section, to be met with his unshaded eyes, deep crimson irises, almost glowing in the poor illumination. Skin pale and sickly in comparison.

Dave's grip on the sink tightened, and he found himself unable to look away.

"The Lord is my Sheppard..." He spoke through clenched teeth.

The sudden sounding of the motel room's front door swinging open pulled his attention away. Quickly, he pulled on his clothes; a pair of his favorite shirt and jeans, and stepped out, shaking the towel along his golden locks, still wet.

"Back so soon? I was planning to have one of those ‘out of control teen’ parities.”

Dirk remained silent, dumping his loot on the dresser before pressing past his brother to disappear into the bathroom, soaked in deep crimson blood. He shut the door, looking himself over in the mirror, frowning. At least it was fresh. He filled the sink with water and stripped down, dumping his sanguinary clothes in with a bit of soap and letting them soak before turning on the water in the shower.

                 On the chest of drawers he left an empty soda bottle, a half empty bottle of prescription painkillers, and a tee shirt in Dave's size that, when flipped over, revealed a faded logo of one of his favorite bands, along with two batteries that would fit his music player.

Dave walked over to the assortment of stuff, glancing over it with his usual indifferent expression.

However, it reminded him of the time Dirk bought them both Christmas from a near by gas station. Nothing said "Happy Holidays" like a bag if Doritos, a jumbo lighter and a windshield scraper.

He never understood that last one. They hadn't had a car since Bro died.

He only shook his head, tossing the t-shirt into his bag, the batteries onto the bed, and placing two painkillers between his teeth, washing them down with the swig of the water Dirk had left.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, idly wondering what he could do. Taking his CD collection, he thumbed through the plastic pages, reminiscing on all the hell Dirk went through to get them. This brother always understood his love for music, and how it helped him cope. He always did what he thought was best for him, his brother, never asking any questions.

Dave gave an exasperated sigh, glancing over at the bathroom door. "Bro?" He called out, "You okay?"

"Yeah," he called over the water. "I'll be out in a minute. Make sure you have everything."

Dave nodded, pushing on his glasses, tossing the CD case in his bag and grabbing his head phones and music player. He noticed the trail of blood leading into the bathroom, causing his brow to knead in confusion, but he decided to just let it drop. Dirk never liked confrontation.

Dirk stepped out of the shower, wiping away the steam from the mirror and looking himself over. Not a scratch, of course. And no blood to be seen. He bared his fangs, using the tip of his nail to pick out the bits of flesh and gore left between them, flicking them away before calling, "Hand me some clothes, lil' man. These are trashed."

Dave obliged with a reluctant groan, grabbing a fresh pair of clothes from Dirk's bag, a black tank top and black jeans as always, and heading over to the bathroom door. He twisted the knob, pushing the threshold open, only getting a glimmer of his brother's bare torso before turning away, a faint flush dusting over his freckled nose. "Get dressed, man." He tossed the clothes in, shutting the door quickly.

                     Dirk pulled the clothes on, frowning at how loose the jeans were. He quickly checked the cabinet beneath the sink for anything useful, pausing and smirking when he found something interesting. He threw the door open, pointing something at Dave, shouting, "Hands up, asshole!"

Dropping his headphones, he grabbed his sword from off the bed, unsheathing it in a matter of seconds, spinning around on his heel to face Dirk, at the ready. "Bro-"

            Standing across from him with an uncharacteristically wide smirk, the eldest of the two held a hairdryer pointed in Dave's direction. He burst into laughter, falling against the door and holding his stomach. Dave dropped his sword, raising his hands. "I'm done." He shook his head, "Nope. Done. Two hundred percent."  But the younger of the two couldn't hide his own kiddish amusement, chuckling beneath his breath.

Dirk smirked, looking over the hairdryer. "Battery powered," he noticed, flicking it on and nodding as it whirred to life. He opened the battery door and frowned. "Double A. They'll fit the radio."

With a shrug, Dave bent over to pick up his weapon. "Good enough." Glancing over, he snorted at Dirk's now falling down pants. "That a fashion statement?"

Dirk narrowed his eyes, tugging them up. "Do we still have that belt?" He asked, going through the duffel bag. Reaching into his back, Dave pulled one out, not shying from smacking Dirk's neck with it playfully. "Here."  He offered, "It's orange too, your favorite color."

Dirk accepted the belt, sliding it through the loops in his jeans before retrieving two bars of soap from beneath the cabinet, along with a rag. "Might as well," he conceded as he dumped them in the bag, zipping it up and slinging it over his shoulder. "Let's get a move on," he said, opening the door. "We're burning moonlight."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy tea trays! Thank you all so much for the number of reads so far, I was not expecting such a feedback, it's quite flattering, to be honest. Please do keep up the interest~ 
> 
> I will do my best to keep the updates consistent.
> 
> Thank you again (:


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He cocked the barrel in a wordless warning. "I know what you are."
> 
> "What are you gonna do about it?"

                He stood face to face with the Queen of the nest, her pale white face contorted with rage. The black blood that splattered about the room only incensed her desire to murder the man before her. The blonde’s fingers worked around the hilt of his blade, readying himself. And through the massive wooden doors of the throne room, Dave burst in, back to the two. His face and shirt were stained with black, chest rising and falling rapidly, eyes almost visible behind his shades, wild with adrenaline. He swung and kicked at the biting mouths and grabbing hands, disgusting hissing noises emitting from their fanged mouths. Planting a solid kick to the face against one that was crawling towards him, a smirk couldn't help but crawl across his face.

"There were more in the cellar!"  The youngest Strider called out, still swinging, the sound of blood spilling and skin slicing echoing with his words, "Hibernating or something! Kill the bitch and let's get the Hell out of here! I'm not sure how much longer I can hold them off!"

"When I say, close the door!" Dirk called, detaching something from his belt, fending off the Queen. He knocked back the undead monarch and tossed the grenade in a wide arc through the doors, catching the Vampires' attention. "Now, Dave!"

            With a forceful grunt, Dave pardoned the threshold, slamming the doors closed, and with a massive explosion sounding on the other side, he was tossed back into his brother, sending them both collapsing to the floor. Dirk quickly rolled them over as on the opposite side of the egress the Queen’s children leapt at the first prey they saw, screeching bloody murder.

The doors busting open once more under the pressure, Dirk swore, running at the distressed monsteress, bringing the blade down on the back of her neck, decapitating her with a sick crunch.

            Amongst the commotion, Dave sat up with a grunt, feeling as if his wrist was more than likely sprained from the fall. Pushing his glasses up, he watched his brother, awe struck, wiping the blood from his cheek with the heel of his hand. He reached for his sword, pulling himself to a struggled stand. "Need any help there, Hercules?"

Dirk pulled himself up, grabbing the bag already full of hissing and spitting heads, shoving the Queen's in with it. "I got it," he looked to Dave nursing his wrist. "You alright?" He asked, tying the bag shut. "I hear you, I hear you," he assured the spitting bag, "nothing personal."

"Peachy," Dave assured sarcastically. "Tell me again why we're collecting heads."

Dirk slung the sack over his shoulder with a grunt. "Getting paid for it," he answered. "A good amount, too. Bandage your wrist," he instructed, tossing a roll of bandages at him. "I'll be outside." Exiting the throne room, he pressed the small button on his hidden receiver. "Kankri, you there?"

"Yes, I'm here, Mr. Strider. What is it you req-" The loquacious, formal voice was cut off as Dirk's name was called from inside the abandoned estate. Dirk dropped the phone along with the black bag, running inside without question, only to find a hoard of vampires had emerged, crowding the massive foyer of the building, where his brother stood center, surrounded, undead creatures jumping from rafter to rafter, crawling along the railings of the stair cases, swinging from broken chandeliers, hissing, growling, and drooling with hunger. They ran their tongues over their lips, watching Dave carefully, circling like vultures. Dave stood at the ready, sword positioned to attack, but the two forces remained their ground, waiting for the other to strike.

              Dirk's heart fell in his chest, face going pale. There had to be hundreds of them, and they were armed with only swords. He felt despair creeping up the back of his neck, gripping his blade with sweat slicked palms, silently calculating how to get Dave out alive and unturned.

"Tally ho!" a voice cried vibrantly, echoing in the rafters. "I say, you boys look like you could use a bit of assistance! Rookie mistake, wot, using the front door. Though the hero always comes in at the last moment!" He declared, whipping out what appeared to be a grenade.

"Don't, idiot, you'll kill us, too!" Dirk barked.

"Not to worry, chums! This is Holy Water! Quite ineffective against the untainted, though it smells weird. Alright, then-"

"Holy Water? Shit..."  Dirk mumbled. He noticed all of the vampires had suddenly locked their gazes on the source of the smell of tantalizing, one hundred percent human blood. Even Dirk felt himself salivate at the prospect, but instead he called, "Dave! Let's go!"

"Yeah," Dave breathed, body trembling as he quickly moved left, skirting around a huddled clump of creatures, making way for the door. Having no time to even think to defend himself, a vampire pounced on him from behind, sinking its razor like teeth into the exposed flesh of his neck. Dave let out a pained cry, but it wasn't long before the monster did as well, releasing him and curling up on the floor as if it had been burned by his blood.

           The younger blonde teen blinked, confused as he whirled around to witness the sight. It was seconds before a gun shot sounded, the abomination falling lifeless.

Dave looked up, eyes hazed, lips parted. "D...irk..." He mumbled, the world suddenly going black.

"Fuck!" The eldest swore, pressing through the burning haze of Holy Water, ignoring the claws and teeth that lashed at him, skin sizzling with the purified spray to reach his brother.

            The stranger eyed the older male curiously, noting how his skin burned on contact, frowning, but was pulled out of his reverie by a hiss close to him, crying out as he nearly fell from the rafter. "Bloody Hell!" He cried, shooting the creature through the eye, then glanced back to the pair, narrowing his eyes before jumping to another rafter, making his leave.

-o-

                  Dirk looked over his little brother's unconscious form laying beneath the covers, eyebrows furrowed as he eyed the blood spotted bandages about his neck. He looked to the pan of blood and venom he had to suck out himself, shivering at the sheer willpower it took not to feed off of his brother. He glanced about the dingy room, wallpaper peeling and windows boarded. It would do, he supposed, considering, but they were out of disinfectant and liquor, leaving him at a high risk of infection even without the risk of turning.

Dirk sighed, sheathing his sword and turning to the door to see a small figure leaning against it, clad in a red sweater, tail flicking, arms crossed.

"Bag's in the bathroom," he answered, the assumed question going unasked, cocking his head in the direction of the door. "They're hissin' mad though, I’d watch it," he scratched at the scabbing burns on his skin.

              Dave stirred subtly, mumbling something under his breath as he turned away from Dirk, curling into the dusty sheets. His body twitched in slumber, hand reaching up unconsciously to scratch at his wounded throat. Dirk batted at his hand to make him stop, frowning.

            The demon entered the room with caution, glancing around with a horrified curiosity. "How do you stand to live in such...such preposterous conditions?" He scoffed, tail flicking back and forth. "Even our Hellions live better than this." His black eyes, irises rimmed in a fiery red, fell to the sleeping child, causing his heart to lurch, a small smile spreading across his black lips. "Is that him?" Kankri asked quietly, stepping forward, hand outstretched, "your brother?"

Dirk scowled, hand moving to his sword. "Don't touch him," he warned lowly, baring his fangs.

            Kankri quickly drew his hand back with a light gasp, "Touchy tonight, are we?" He sighed, "my, my, though, he sure has grown." Turning around with a light bounce to his step, he walked to the large bag, tapping it once with his foot, causing them to hiss in reproach. "Oh dear..." He tisked, "Well, His Majesty will certainly be pleased about this."  Despite his small stature, the demon took hold of the bag with ease, lifting it over his shoulder. "Is there anything else you will need of me this night, Mr. Strider?"

"...he got bit," Dirk cocked his head. "I know the soulless have immunity, but..." he crossed his arms.”I sucked out most of the poison," he explained as Kankri looked his brother over.

"What would you care for me to do about it? Would you like me to heal the little tike?" He tilted his head, pointed ears perking up.

"You can do that?" He questioned incredulously, eyebrow lifting.

"Me?" Kankri laughed, "Seven sins no, but I know something that can. Here," he gestured to the nightstand, "hand me that note pad."

Dirk gave it to the small demon, watching him carefully. "There's no catch, right? Like, it ain't gonna kill him or nothin'? ...Right?" He insisted when he received no answer.

"Of course not," Kankri waved the comment away with the flick of his wrist, arms crossing as the notepad floated before him, pointed tail scribbling away an address. "You, however, I'm not so sure of."  Suddenly, a neat fold of paper appeared in Dirk's lap. "Some advice," The demon added,  "When you get there, walk as quickly as you possibly can to the back, make eye contact with none, and please, for your own sake, act like a demon for once. Ask for Makara. He'll know what you need to fix your brother up right as flame." There was a pause, his tail flicked, "Understood?"

"Got it," he looked over the address with an eye of skepticism. "And this Makara, or whoever...is he trustworthy?"

"He's utterly insane~" Kankri giggled.

Dave stirred again, saying something incoherent, turning back to face Dirk.

Kankri's brow furrowed, "He doesn't know, does he?" The demon inquired sadly.

"No, and I don't plan on him knowin'," Dirk asserted. "You can shape shift, can't you? Can't you make yourself look human?"

Kankri gasped, hurt, "Why I never-!" He stopped himself, sighing. "As a matter if fact, I can. But my eyes, sadly, remain the way you perceive them now, and if you intend me to stay, from what I know, your brother is not a fool and will have me pinned with a blade to my fragile heart. Which!" He pointed out, "is a direct violation of your contract, if I do say so myself, and I do," he laughed heartily.

"Fine," he sighed. "What _can_ you transform into?" He asked, rifling through his bag and pulling out a candle to light for Dave.

Kankri made a disgruntled, 'hmph' sound, glancing at the candle stick, and before Dirk could notice he was gone, the wick lit. Dirk's eyes widened, staring at the candlestick curiously. Faint black eyes appeared in the flame, "Magic, little one." An ominous voice giggled, coming from no where and everywhere. "Now hurry, you only have until sun rise before the virus takes its course in his body."

Dirk nodded, setting the candle down on the dresser. "Take care of him," he pleaded, before taking his sword and slicing it across the ground, watching as the wood glowed and gaped like a great mouth, descending inside, and closing behind him.

-o-

                              Landing on his feet, Dirk removed his glasses and let them hang off the neck of his top, eyes glowing faintly. He glanced at the address before tucking it into his back pocket, continuing down the cobblestone street, red faintly glowing between the gaps in pavement. A few demons took notice of the burns on Dirk's skin along the way, giving empathetic looks as they passed. He recalled Kankri's instructions and cracked his neck, baring his fangs faintly to assure that it didn't hurt in the least, and to imply that whoever did it got what they deserved. He arrived, opening the door and, keeping his eyes straight ahead, made his way to the back, approaching a counter housing a figure with his back to Dirk, wearing a skeletal suit. "I'm lookin' for Makara?" He asked the horned demon.

There was no answer. Dirk cleared his throat, “Pardon?”

The horned demon turned around, eyes widening some as if he had not realized Dirk's presence firstly. Its face was extravagantly adorned in black and white make up, and the suit cling to his body so tightly it almost appeared to be a skin. He held up a single gloved hand, signifying a 'Hello', and it was only in the creature offering a smile that it's grotesque, sewn together mouth was noticeable. Dirk fought to keep his expression neutral, asking simply. "You Makara?"

The horned creature nodded, smile never fading.  _'How may I be of service to you, Dietrich Bane Strider?'_ A hauntingly serene voice echoed through Dirk's thoughts.

Dirk blinked twice. "A telepath, huh. I need something to counteract Vampire venom?"

He nodded once more, ' _It is my brother you desire to see then_ ,' lifting the far right side of the counter without ever touching it, he gestured for Dirk to follow, ' _Come with me_.' He requested, disappearing through a curtain of beads. Dirk looked skeptically at the beads, silently questioning everything he had ever done in his life up to that point before following the tall telepath, hand itching to move for his blade.

              As their trek ventured further into the back of the store, a heavy smoke settled around them, aroma sweet and drawing. Eventually, the narrow corridor evened out into a circular room, walks draped in purple velvet, carpeting regal and mismatched. In the center, a rather peculiar figure sat, mouth closed around a long, snake-like pipe leading from a large hourglass like pot. His horns were exact replicas of the telepathic demon, face painted just as heavily.

Pulling away from the pipe, he tilted his head back, puffing out a cloud of smoke. "How can I help you, my brothers?" He chuckled, grinning devilishly.

"I uh, need something for Vampirism. Prevention?"

He squinted his yellow eyes in Dirk's direction, "You don't look like a vampire to me."

"My brother was bitten."

"Bitten by what? You shouldn't go around biting people, my friend, you could catch something that way."

"...by a Vampire. He was bitten by a vampire. I need a preventative," he said adamantly.

"Ah, yes my brother, I've got just the thing for your wee predicamentation." He stood from his cross-legged position, walking over to a shelf stacked high with countless glass bottles and vials, some glowing and some black as night.

             With squinted eyes, he looked over the assortment, before exclaiming with a, "Gotcha!" as he picked up a rounded bottle, filled with a thick substance, a dark violet, almost black, course and unappetizing. "There you are my little miracle." He proclaimed, holding it up to faint light. "This should solve all ya problems, brother." He assured, walking over to Dirk, "unless of course," He pulled his hand back, "your brother is a nymph." The demon eyed Dirk curiously.

"He is not a nymph," Dirk said flatly.

The Soulless looked terribly unamused as the Demon conceded, "Okay then," handing the bottle over to Dirk. "Here ya go." He stepped back, bowing slightly, “Drink responsibly, my friend."

"Thanks..." he cocked an eyebrow.”How do you know Kankri?" He asked, curious as to how exactly it was a demon like Kankri came across this strange potions master. Come to think of it, was he even licensed? He began to question the validity of the bile he held.

"The question is not how I know Kankri, brother," The demon spun around once before falling flat on his back where he originated, "but how Kankri knows me. And the answer to that miraculous question is," he spread his arms out along the carpeted floor, "everyone knows me."

"I don't know you," he conceded.

"You do now," he smiled.

-o-

           Dirk crawled through the portal once more, landing on sealed hardwood with a thump. He looked over to the candle flame, the small black eyes shut, flame growing and shrinking with small breaths. Dirk's eyebrow twitched as he uncapped a water bottle, wondering what would happen if he were to douse the candleKri while he slept.

"You wouldn't dare." Kankri scoffed, the flash suddenly going out, a presence materializing behind Dirk. "So rude."

"You were supposed to be watchin' him," Dirk asserted.

"And I was!" Kanrki pouted, ears orbiting some in irritation. "But then I thought if someone came in with the intention to make a threat on his life, he would wake up, and then what good would a little candle flame do? Because I certainly couldn't take my current form or that would be quite a lot of explaining on your part, and given your current...situation I figured I would be better off taking a small nap until you returned." He gestured to the sleeping boy, "And hence, I was correct."

"....fair enough. Thanks," he conceded, placing the vial down on the dresser, then stretching, going to unhook his sheath from his belt but pausing when his stomach growled loudly, blinking twice.

           Kankri picked the bag up once more, tossing it over his shoulder and heading for the front door. "I do suggest you take care of that," He amended, back to Dirk, "before that virus isn't the only thing eating away at your brother." And with that, he was gone.

Dirk frowned, checking the time. He had four hours until sunrise, and couldn't give Dave the liquid without waking him up. Two hours to hunt, one to return, one to administer the inhibitor. He glanced over his shoulder, resolving not to go far, and exited the room.

-o-

The city was silent, buildings tall and lingering, glass lining the streets from broken windows overhead. The sky was clouded with sulfur and gas, hiding away the moon. Perfect. Any human wouldn't stand a chance in these conditions. Dirk stalked the streets, tucking through alleys and between buildings, sniffing out faint traces of humanity, body aching with hunger and bloodlust. He ducked around a building, pointing his nose to the air when he realized he was being followed. He turned his head just in time to see a silhouette whip past the alley opening. He frowned. Fine. The human wanted to play this game? He would play. He'd wear them out first, of course, darting through the passage ways, grateful for his excessive stamina, even inhibited as it was by lack of nutrients in his body. He lead the chase for a good fifteen minutes before he could detect lethargy in the human's movements; then he struck, darting back and pinning the human to the wall, angled glasses falling to the concrete as his senses were overwhelmed with the promise of human.

Until he met the human's eyes.

The deep green irises stared Dirk down unabashedly. He instantly recognized the male as the one from the Nest, the one who threw the Holy Water. His guard fell for a moment.

The emerald eyed stranger smirked victoriously, his glasses shimmering in the low illumination of the street lamp only feet away from them. "Well, well, you've caught your mouse," He chuckled, foreign accent lacing over his tongue, "now wot does the big bad pussy cat plan to do with it?"

Dirk just wordlessly searched for what to say, looking over the human, mouth slightly agape.

In a movement as swift as a jungle cat, the stranger had spun Dirk around, along with himself, and before the other could even think to catch his breath, he had their position switched, Dirk pinned against the wall, an arm to his bare throat, and a gun to his head.

He cocked the barrel in a wordless warning. "I know what you are."

Dirk looked down at him, hands curling into fists. "What are you gonna do about it?" He questioned.

The green eyed human looked him over for a moment longer, brow kneaded with a curiosity that a human might show an animal. And, without warning he leaned into the creature, pressing a forceful kiss to his lips.

Dirk only hesitated a moment before pressing back roughly, eyes sliding shut, nails digging into his palms as he clenched his hands. The gun was lowered from its place, now resting flat against Dirk's chest, safety locked as the dark haired of the two pressed against his shoulders, driving him further into the wall, forcing his tongue past the other's full lips, exploring the warm heat of his mouth with a low moan. Dirk shuddered involuntarily, hands coming up to fist the human's jacket, shoving him back into the opposite wall and running his hand down the mortal's chest, tangling his tongue with the green eyed male's. He pulled away, a smirk dancing across his kiss-swollen lips, "The name's English," He huffed, chest heaving with adrenaline, "Jake English."

"Dirk Strider," he returned, panting softly before pressing the human back into the wall, kissing him hard, one knee sliding between Jake's.

Jake moaned against his mouth, a hand sliding up his chest, nails dancing along his throat, fingers then finding their way to tangling in the mess of spiked blonde hair. He tugged none too gently, rocking his hips against Dirk's knee as he slid the gun back into its holster.

"Mmm..." Dirk purred against Jake's mouth, hands sliding down to pull the human flush against him, moaning wantonly against the mortal's ear. Jake's breath hitched as he tilted his head back, exposing his jugular, lips parted in a pant. Dirk's hand slid to Jake's thigh, left bare by his shorts, and lifted it to wrap about his waist, their hips sliding together easily, displaying exemplary self control by running his lips over the human's tantalizing jugular, not even showing a hint of teeth. Jake gasped, eyes fluttering closed at the sensation of being pressed so close to the one thing that could end his life in an instant, and yet it held him fast, caressing him. He pressed himself closer, hands falling away to grip at Dirk's shirt.

Dirk ran his fingers up Jake's shirt, claws skating his bare chest and resting on his pectorals, brushing his thumb over his nipple teasingly. The Brit gave an unrestrained moan, shuddering with sensitivity, rocking his hips forward, brushing his pelvis against Dirk's own. Dirk inhaled sharply, the alluring scent of human terribly tempting. It would be so easy, he thought, to just tear him to shreds. Instead, he learned down, running his tongue over Jake's clothed nipples, loving the way the human's body reacted so easily, one hand on his ass to keep the amazing friction present. "Oh, my..." He gasped, biting down on his lip to keep from moaning again. His nails ran along Dirk's back gently, soon coming to rest on his bare shoulders, marking small circles on the skin.

His lip quirked in irritation, wanting to hear the delicious moans fall from his pretty mortal lips. He lifted Jake effortlessly to wrap his legs about the Soulless's waist, slamming him hard into the opposite wall, taking advantage of the way the human’s mouth hung open in shock as he gasped for air, sliding his tongue easily into the mortal’s mouth.

The two continued to clash, teeth gnashing between kisses, gasps drawn as snarls, limbs tangling in a ravishing quarrel. Nails pierced skin, senses flaring, hips grinding, voices rising. Jake slammed the Soulless back into the brick of the alley wall, his hip pressing into Dirk’s pelvis, the blonde gasping and, reflexively, sinking his teeth into the mortal’s shoulder, drawing blood. His nerves lit up like a conflagration, making the Soulless snarl and hiss with desire, jerking his head instinctively to draw more blood, body aching for the nutrients it so lacked.

Jake startled from his lust-driven reverie, heart nearly stopping when Dirk’s teeth slid against his jugular. He kicked the Soulless back, drawing his guns and cocking them in one fluid motion, aimed for his head. “That’s quite enough,” he barked, his olive colored military jacket quickly soaking through with crimson, his white tee shirt ruined beyond repair. Dirk snarled, his eyes melting black as he reared back, ready to attack, to tear his prey to shreds. A shudder of adrenaline ran through English, his body trembling at the feral eyes, at the mere thought that that had been so close to his neck only seconds before. He swallowed hard, "I could kill you now and it wouldn't be murder."

"I could let you go and it wouldn't save the soul I don't have," Dirk breathed voice tritoned.

Jake didn't falter. "Give me a single reason why I shouldn't spare you the suffering, mate."

Dirk smirked, cocking his head to the side. "Don't really have one, besides the fact that I'll just devour you after. We could do one of two things. We could, one, go our separate ways and you could live to see another day, or two, shoot me and realize that it'll take under thirty seconds for me to regenerate and hunt your ass down. Your choice, bro," he put his hands up mockingly.

Jake fired a shot into the air, making Dirk turn in surprise. He caught the Soulless off guard when he pressed him against the wall, pinning him and kissing him roughly, catching Dirk's lip between his teeth, drawing enough blood to taste the bitter heat of it, then backing away, wiping his mouth on his arm and smirking before turning and running off.

Dirk watched after him, eyebrow cocked, knowing that this wasn’t going to be the last time and the human’s paths would cross.

-o-

Dirk dragged himself into the room, his hunt utterly fruitless and stomach demanding flesh. He sighed, limbs heavy, and went to drag himself to bed when he tripped over something, catching himself on the chest of drawers. He looked back to see a black bag sitting on the ground with a piece of red parchment tied to it. He took the note, reading it silently.

_"Dietrich,_

_There was a new arrival today. Without its soul it’s virtually worthless..._

_To us._

_-Vantas, Kankri  
Hellish Officiator_

_P.S. Humans have a very unappetizing appearance, no?"_

Dirk frowned, pulling the bag open, eyes widening when he realized what was inside; thick slabs of fatty, bloody flesh, cut away from bone into indistinct shapes, making it look inhuman. Dirk's lips pulled up into a grin and he took the bag into the bathroom, hunger evident in his eyes.

He came out a few minutes later, his hunger satiated for the first time in weeks, washed off the blood and gore that had stained him while feeding. He looked to the Vampiric inhibitor on the bedside table. Dirk would've rather avoided Dave's questions about his acquirement of such a thing, and instead uncapped it. He looked down to his brother's bloodless features, eyebrows knotting as he took the bile into his mouth, nearly gagging on the acrid bitterness, then leaned down, pressing his lips to his brother's and transferring the nauseating liquid, holding his jaw shut so he would have to swallow.

Dave's eyebrows kneaded, his lids soon after fluttering open, widening as he came to. With a deep gulp, he swallowed the bile substance, chocking as he pushed his brother away from him, sitting up. "What the..." He coughed, wiping his mouth, "hell, bro?"

"Don't ask," he asserted, stripping off his shirt and crawling into bed, burying his face tiredly into the musty pillow, bones groaning with relief alongside his full stomach.

Dave glanced over at him, only to shake his head, tossing himself back down. "Morning to you too."

"Look, bro. I just got in. It is early o'clock,' he retorted, voice slurred with sleep.

The younger of the two rolled over, curling against Dirk, "It's cold." He murmured, "You left the air running all night."

"Whatever," he mumbled, turning himself over and draping his body over his little brother's. "I'm warm."

He yawned, "Where were you anyway?"

"Hell," he answered.

Dave nodded, closing his eyes, "I'll alert the Westboro Baptists. Let them know they were right."

Dirk laughed, pulling his brother closer and drifting off to sleep.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kankri's nose turned to the air, voice darkening. 
> 
> "You brought a snack..."

 

_The ground shook beneath him, flames consuming the trembling frame of the building. The heat was suffocating, choking him slowly with strangling tendrils of ash and smoke, wrapping about his throat and sinking into his lungs. Debris rained from the trembling ceiling as the floor began to give way, cracks fanning out from where he stood like a web._

_He looked to his left; a familiar figure clutched his bloody chest, angled glasses much like his own falling from his face to the ground, abdomen impaled._

_To the right, one with round mirror shades reflecting Dirk's own horrified expression, face marred with soot and blood, burns decorating his injured body._

_His muscles jumped to move, to take action, to save one, the other, or even himself, but he was anchored to the floor by spindly wisps of writhing black, pulling him against the crumbling Earth, dragging him to the pits of Hell, voices screaming his name from every direction. He tried to wrench his limbs from their restrains, but the more he struggled, the tighter they became. He screamed, but what exactly he couldn't hear as the building gave out around him, darkness closing in, was his voice, silenced…_

-o-

Dirk bolted upright, a sheen of sweat across his furrowed brow, arms and legs tangled in the sheets. His breath came in unsteady drags, leaving in an equally haphazard state. His hands shook violently as he reached for his glasses, trembling too much to even consider putting them on.

Twilight poured in through scarcely parted curtains, riddled with dust and cobwebs, illuminating the room in orange and violet. Particles of dust that once rested upon forgotten surfaces danced about the stale air, visible in the light once caught at the perfect angle. Through a delicate crack along the glass of the window pane, the sounds of outside seeped through into the tranquility of the forlorn chamber, becoming more distinguishable as the hunter’s senses awoke. The vigorous clanging of metal against wood could be heard as they permeated the walls. Sonance accompanied by furious grunts and frustrated withheld cries, never ceasing, even as the sun set beyond the horizon, leaving the room in a state of gentle darkness.

Dirk caught his breath in stagnant time, untangling himself from the sheets. He went to the bathroom sink, putting his glasses on the counter and trying one of the faucets. When nothing came out, he took one of the spare water bottles, dampening a rag and washing his face off, shaking away the tremors and haze of sleep. He looked up into the cracked mirror, his shades gone, leaving Dirk face to face with himself. His orange eyes looked over his scarred, gaunt facade, white blonde hair falling into his face unattended. He recalled his terrified expression in Dave's glasses, turning away from the mirror irritably, instead going to check on the noise outside.

The youngest of the Strider siblings stood before a wooden post, five inches wide, standing a foot or so above him. His chest rose and fell in deep gasps, blonde hair sticking to his forehead with humidity and sweat; both of his hands gripping his katana with an obscene force, knuckles as red as his unshaded eyes, glasses having been tossed aside in the quarrel. He glared furiously at the object, holding a personal vendetta against it.

Lifting the weapon up, he cried out, swinging at it, mercy cast aside, once more. “Argah!”

"Hold up," Dirk stopped him at once, holding up his hand before Dave could strike.

At the command, Dave only sneered, gritting his teeth, palms clenching tighter. He swung with recalcitrance against his brother's heed, again, and again, and again, hits coming with a frantic passion as he muttered something beneath his breath.

"Dave, you're gonna crack the blade," he snarled, putting his hand on Dave's shoulder.

In an instant, Dave's right arm came around, the blade of the sword cutting diagonally across his brother's bare chest. He panted, grip never loosening as he stared at his brother, awaiting his reaction.

Dirk drew back, gasping as blood so dark it looked black oozed from the wound. He covered his chest in haste, darting back inside.

With a furrowed brow, Dave watched after his brother, even as the door slammed shut, concealing him from view. Sliding the metallic weapon back into its sheath, he knelt down, eying the spot of dark blood that had accumulated from the fresh wound he had afflicted, a few drops having fell upon the dust ridden, dry ground. Noticing its color and potency, his eyes narrowed. He stood, retrieving his glasses and making a way back into the room.

 

 

-o-

                                                                                                                                                         

Dirk pressed a cloth to the open wound on his chest, dampened with a bit of water diluted peroxide used to make it last. He dabbed at it gently, wiping away the thick, black blood, finding himself praying for the first time in years just for Dave to not have noticed. He managed to stem the bleeding enough to not have to worry about the wound, rinsing out the rag and sighing before looking up to examine the wound in the mirror, only to see his younger brother in the reflection.

Catching the amber eyes in the reflection, Dave slowly shifted his gaze, face neutral. Shifting his feet, he made his way to the single bed, taking a seat before sliding off his shoes, not speaking a word.

Dirk only continued to gaze at the spot where he had stood, sighing. He felt nauseous. The sight of his own blood made his stomach churn, and he couldn't afford to puke, not with how malnourished he already was. He grabbed his shirt, sitting on the counter, and slid it over his head, exiting the bathroom. He looked to Dave and frowned. "Why don't you listen to your music or something?"

"Why don't you mind your own business, bro?" Dave barked in retaliation, eyes narrowing behind the aviators.

Dirk sneered, fighting the urge to retort. "I'll be back soon," he remarked instead, tone dry, leaving with the intention to hunt.

The youngest kept his eyes passive as the motel room door came to a close, more forceful than usual, only watching after his brother as he heard the footsteps fade against the asphalt. Remaining idle, forlorn, for several moments longer, Dave stood to his feet, glancing about the room, almost as if it were foreign. Fist clenching and releasing, he breathed evenly.

"My people are destroyed for their lack of knowledge..." He repeated in subtle tone, taking hold of his sword, sheathing it, "because thou hast rejected knowledge, I will also reject thee," He made his way towards the door, "that thou shalt be no priest to me..." making his way out, the warm breeze that accompanied the night encasing him as he stepped out, shoulders heavy with what truth he might face in its shadow.

 

-o-

Dirk continued on, making his way towards the sleeping city. His stomach ached, yearning for sustenance that he was determined to give it, though his mind felt clouded with doubt. There was no way Dave hadn't noticed how dark his blood was, how thick and bilious. He considered asking Kankri along for half a moment, even just for the company.

He wondered if Kankri ate people? 

Shrugging, Dirk decided he couldn't see the small demon eating anything besides a cupcake, and continued walking, pointing his nose to the air and inhaling deeply, smelling past the sulfur and chemicals to the still-inhabited parts of the city, mouth watering.

-o-

Dave remained hidden as he trailed behind his brother, remaining hidden in the cloak provided by the poorly lit streets, much like a ghost, the crescent moon above never granting much companionship. His breath was quite, eyes alert as he watched the blackened figured ahead of him, not as if he were his brother, but as if he were a stranger, just another hunt waiting to be salvaged.

A hand tightened around the hilt of his blade, wanting so much for his instincts to be wrong.

-o-

Dirk suddenly perked up, hearing footsteps just around the corner; the promise of a kill. Any thought of remorse he would have carried disappeared with his empty stomach. He dashed around, fangs bared, senses heightened, ready to attack.

-o-

The blonde's breath hitched and he pressed himself against the brick walling of an old building, heart hammering in his chest.

 _Had he seen him?_ His thoughts raced _. No, he couldn't have_. He'd been silent. There had to be someone else coming.

_Shit._

-o-

A scream echoed throughout the empty night, high pitched and shrill. Dirk froze, fangs still bared, muscles still taut when he saw before him a young girl of about twelve, shaking as she gazed up at the male. He steadied himself with a deep breath, gazing down at her. She took two steps back before running off in the opposite direction.

Dirk sighed, falling back against the wall, folding his arms over his chest. He pressed the button on his receiver, mumbling, a slight shake in his voice, "Kankri?"

-o-

The sound of a scream followed by a muffled voice drew his attention back, head whipping about as his crimson eyes narrowed in a careful precession and calculation. Falling to a chain-link fence, around seven or eight feet high, Dave deduced that around the bend of the massive green dumpster would be an entrance to the alley way that, he supposed, housed the monster he followed. From there he would have to take chances.

Situating the sword around his belt, pushing his glasses up further on the bridge of his nose, Dave lifted himself up and on to the metal barricade, grunting in exertion as he threw himself over, landing with a roll into the concrete ground bellow, crawling swiftly to hide behind the dumpster. Listing close, he swallowed hard as he resisted the urge to peer around the corner.

"Kankri? You there?" Dirk asked shakily, eyebrows furrowed.

A familiar clad of red crossed his vision, spade tail flicking swiftly before his face to signify the presence beside him. "You called, Dietrich ?" The demon inquired, arms crossed over his chest, chin pointed upward as he looked Dirk over with a curious pout.

Dirk gasped, flinching as he realized Kankri's presence. "You scared me!" He exclaimed, heavy accent showing. "Christ, Kankri, you can't go jumpin’ in front of people like that."

Kankri chuckled, a soft smile gracing his grey features, allowing the sharp glint of his fangs to bare. "Would you rather I tap you on the shoulder next time?"

Dirk relaxed a bit in the presence of his friend. "Just a bit of a warnin’ would have been nice, pal," he pressed, folding his arms across his chest once more.

" _You_ called _me_ , Dietrich," Kankri scolded, "I simply figured that would be warning enough." His tail flicked, ears twitching. "Now, what is it you needed? I'm a busy creature of the underworld; I can't just go around bending to your will simply because you're lonely." His delicately flushed face contradicted his strict commands, "Although I don't mind a break every now and then." He added, glancing away.

Dirk only smirked. "Admit it. You just wanted to get away. Anyway, I was wondering something?"

"Ask away, Dietrich" he began with a pleasant smile when a subtle breeze blew throughout the city. Kankri's sensitive nose turned to the air, voice darkening. "You brought a snack..." he turned his gaze to their shadow, eyes alight with hunger.

Dave's body went rigid, metal colliding with the cracked grounding, a small line stemming from the handle, blade threatening to crack as the sword slipped from Dave's grasp, mouth agape as he met the demon's eyes. "No..." He breathed.

Kankri hissed, canines extending as he hissed, ears flattening back, body going taut, ready to attack. He reared back and pounced, only to be sidelined by a blur, tumbling to the ground. The fence raddled as Dave tossed himself over, feet slamming against the sidewalk and padding off in a sprint, silence betrayed.

Dirk looked up at Kankri, eyes silted in hostility. "Fuckin’ moron, that was Dave!" He shouted, pressing himself to stand and launching himself off of the small demon, leaping over the gate effortlessly, following his brother with astonishing speed.

-o-

Dave glanced back, sure he had lost two, but catching the pitch black eyes if what he once called his brother he cried out, tripping on miss matched patches of concrete, falling forward, hands jutting out in front of him to break he fall, his glasses colliding with pavement, cracking as they tumbled away. Dirk dashed to Dave's side, kneeling down beside him. "Dave, are you-" he paused, looking up to see a horrified looking a pair of mortals, a mother and her son, gaping down at them. The woman gazed, horrified, clutching her son as he cried out with great wonder, "Mommy! Look! A monster, just like we heard about at school! Look!"

A sudden pang of angst washing over Dirk as he realized the child wasn't pointing at him, but at Dave, his bright red eyes uncovered. The mother dragged her child along quickly, ignoring the scene.

Dave scraped his hands along the pavement, lips pulled in a thin line, jaw set as he grabbed at his broken glasses. "You..." He rasped, unable to finish as a prick along the side of his neck sent his world into a haze before driving him to unconsciousness, his body slumping back to the ground.

"It looked like you needed a bit of help," Kankri explained, tail flicking about. They looked down to the unconscious Strider, Kankri crossing his arms while Dirk ran his fingers through his hair.

"Shit...what are we gonna do?" He mumbled, distressed.

"We could eat him?" Kankri suggested, tail flicking about.

Dirk froze in his thoughts, turning to Kankri with a horrified expression.

"What!" He exclaimed. "I'm not saying it's the _only_ option, I'm just saying it's there..."

"We are _not_ eating my little brother," Dirk clipped, and with a huff, he looked over to the unconscious body once more. "Here, help me carry him." The blonde kneeled down, wrapping an arm beneath his brother.

Kankri half chuckled, "Darling," and with the snap of his fingers, the world hazed around then, lines and colors blurring together in a grotesque spatter of this life and the next.

In almost what seemed like a breath, the three were back in the dusty, worn down room of the abandoned motel.

"Now that it seems we're out if options, do tell me, what is your next move, Dietrich?"

-o-

Footsteps paced against the torn carpeted floor, anxious, restless. A hand, pale and scared, ran through platinum locks. "I don't understand what you mean, Kankri." Dirk sighed, defeated, taking a seat on the opposite end if the bed, looking over to where his sleeping brother laid.

"Dietrich," Kankri consoled, walking towards him with a calm demur, "think of, not only him, but of you..."

"How can I leave my brother?!"  The Soulless exclaimed, standing in a swift abrupt movement, amber eyes burning with an unreadable disarray of emotions.

Kankri flinched visibly, looking away. "Dirk..." he murmured, "You've grown up alongside Dave. Raised him to defend himself against any and all threats. And right now..." he looked to the Soulless, " _You're_ the threat." Kankri looked to the sleeping Mortal, eyebrows furrowing. "When he wakes up, he won't be your little brother. He'll be the hunter you raised him to be, ready to kill," Kankri folded his arms. "Things will be said between brothers that should never be said..." his tail wrapped about his leg, eyes sliding shut.

Falling silent, Dirk wandered passed the small demon and through threshold of the bathroom, the lack of a door to divide it from the rest of the room providing an absence of the privacy he so desired. Tugging at his hair, he kept his eyes downcast. The chamber had fallen completely quite, far from tranquil however. Dirk pressed his palms to the marble counter of the sink, breath coming in heavy rasps. His body trembled, but he refused to cry.

"Dir-...?" A gentle voice called from behind him, causing him to look up, to which he let out an enraged cry, mutated eyes more infuriating than ever. Lifting his fist, he drove it forward into the mirror, glass shattering, utterly demolished as it caved in around his fist, black blood beginning to seep from the impact, dripping down his arm. Jerking it back with growl, he spun on his heel, shoving past Kankri, grabbing hold of a duffle bag, half full; he would have to manage.

Dirk’s shoulders were tight against the black cloth of his tank top, muscles working beneath as he grabbed his sword, gazing over the blade in examination before sliding it into his sheath, tossing it against the bag. He cut his eyes to the dresser drawer, sliding it open and pulling out a bottle of pain medication. He and Dave had always been infamous for chronic migraines due to their sensitive eyes. Dirk popped the top off, counting six more pills. He sighed. Dave was smaller, they would last him. Setting them down, he tossed a journal into the bag, zipping it up before he tossed it over his shoulder, making his way to the door.

His hand ghosted over the knob, swallowing hard as he fought the urge to look back at his brother. The war waged for what seemed like an eternity, lapsing in only a moment, as Dirk thrust the door open, the night air greeting him with a bitter humid chill nipping at his bare shoulders.

"Don't leave the light on, lil' bro," He mumbled against the breeze, "I won't be coming home."

. . .

_“A mirror never lies._

_They know._

_Everybody knows._

_Do you not see what they see?_

_A mirror never lies._

_I see what they see._

_Everybody knows._

_Everybody knows…”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah! @-@ You guys are seriously the best! Thank you, thank you, thank you for all the reads and wonderful feedback so far! This has, by far, been my best experience. Your contribution is much desired, accepted, and appreciated. I do hope to keep the updates coming for you all as you follow along, and I have my fingers crossed that you are enjoying it :'D There is much more in waiting, I assure you, even I'm excited about it. Haha! 
> 
> Anyway, thank you again.  
> Do keep it up.
> 
> <3
> 
> Quotes Used:  
> Dave's Bible Verse: Isaiah 5:13 KJV  
> Ending Lyrics: "Curse of the Virgin Canvas" (Alesana)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I always told you that tongue would get you in trouble," Father warned, his fingers wrapping around Kankri's neck...

               Kankri gazed idly at the blonde standing in his office, attention torn from the work of writing up the contract that sat before him. He was content to gander upon the pale Soulless, how the red glowing from the cracks in his black marble floor reflected on his cheekbones gaunt with martyr-esque fasting, boldly tossing the model of a Matriorb-a gift from Porrim-up and down, having plucked it from its small pedestal upon Kankri's desk, and catching it each time.

              Dirk always seemed so bold to Kankri, despite being somewhat of an outsider in the Depths; his peachy skin and pale hair marking him apart from the other denizens who inhabited Hell, flesh in vibrant colors, hair always dark, teeth always sharp. He wore it proudly, unlike the other Soullesses that wandered about, covering their arms with sleeves and keeping their eyes down. Then again, their reasons for selling their souls weren't as pure as Dirk's, having sacrificed it for his brother. Kankri admired the grotesque, yet beautiful display of affection, wondering how one got so close to a being that shared their blood, his relationship with his brother nothing like that. He recalled the pretentious, pacifistic air about his older brother, boldly preaching peace and equality even when he lived in the Depths, protesting the Intersoullular War with fervor and even undertaking the Trials to be designated worthy of a soul.

              Kankri scoffed at how overrated it was, having one, and couldn't help but relish the fact that the preachy bastard was most likely an outcast among the pale-skinned, red eyed, fair haired freaks, his own silver skin tough where theirs was like paper, and his horns prominent where their wings fell short.

            Kankri looked back to Dirk, at how translucent his skin seemed, his gleaming copper eyes so lovely, whether the scleras were black or white. "Don't berate angels," he scolded himself. "When you've Imprinted on one..."

          Dietrich truly was an angel, Kankri thought, in the Human sense of the word. Pure and giving. He was a perfect candidate to undergo the Trials if he so desired, to reclaim his soul and ascend and leave him behind forever...

"Kankri," A voice laced with the slightest hint of a Texan accent perked up, disrupting the silence. "You're staring at me," Dirk pointed out, catching the Matriorb once more, and eying the demon through his pointed glasses. "Why are you staring at me?"

               As Kankri was stricken speechless, ears twitching as his face flushed a light crimson, the blonde only laughed, setting the object down. "You're a strange little dude, you know that?"

 "I am no such thing," Kankri's tail flicked indignantly, frowning. "You are the strange one here, Soulless, or hadn't you noticed?" He teased, taking the Matriorb from its pedestal and holding it close, tail curling.

Dirk sighed, resting his arms on the desk, "I do my best not to." He shifted to the side.

          Kankri's eyebrows furrowed. "What do you mean? Notice that you're a Soulless?" His tail flicked, ears turning down. "Come; tell me, what did you have before that you don't have now? You're alive and well! Your brother is...he’s...oh, well..." Kankri's tail fell, wrapping about his leg. "Um...your eyes are a very pretty shade of orange, if you ever cared to allow anyone to see." He tried.

             Dirk chuckled, "Thanks, Kankri," he offered, tone half-hearted, "but I'd be lying if I said all this wasn't getting pretty old." He lifted his head, "I lost the one reason I ended up here. How am I supposed to justify being the one thing I was taught to despise?"

"Well...doesn't it have s _ome_ merit? Any positive thing having come from this experience?" Kankri gazed at Dirk wistfully.

"I'm in Hell, Kankri." Dirk pointed out, tone insipid, “it doesn't get any more pessimistic than that."

Not even...one good thing has happened here?" He asked softly.

"No.”  The rebuttal was biting, harsh even.

             Kankri suddenly stood, palms slamming down onto his desk, tail whipping about angrily. "Well, fine then! If you hate it here so damn much, why don't you go complete the Trials and get your soul ba-" Kankri froze, covering his mouth.

Dirk’s body suddenly went rigid, jaw squaring. “What?” He asked through clenched teeth, sunset eyes narrowed.

 "Nothing!" Kankri assured. "I said nothing-haha, Dietrich..." his ears folding.

            In a swift movement, Dirk had thrust himself over the desk, lunging at Kankri. Pressing the small demon’s back to the wall and the blade of his sword against his throat, he growled. “What did you say?”

Kankri's eyes widened, fear evident in his features. "I-I-I..."

“Kankri,” He clenched his teeth, knuckles white as his grip tightened, “is there or isn’t there a way for me to regain my soul?”

          Kankri's tail, instead of serving its purpose of defense, fell in resignation, hitting the floor with a _thump._ "There is..." his eyes fell.”They're called the Seven Trials of Heaven...my brother went through them to gain a soul he never had," Kankri's ears folded as he sighed, eyes falling shut. "But they can be used to replace a soul, as well," Kankri looked up at Dirk, eyes hurting. "You have to-" the small demon paused, his body going rigid as his gaze moved beyond the Soulless's shoulder.

“Have to?” Dirk insisted, taking hold of the demon’s shoulder and shaking it. “Have to what, Kankri?”

"Yes, Kankri. Have to what?" A voice echoed behind them.

"Seven sins..." Kankri mumbled beneath his breath, ears folding, and body tense, tail curling up between his legs.

"No, no, don't let me interrupt your conversation. Please, continue," Father assured a smirk on his features, hat brim pulled down over his eyes.

 "Y-you-..." Kankri's voice trembled. "You have to..." his voice dropped low.”Run."

          With shoulders tense, muscles working beneath the fabric of his black tank-top, Dirk lowered his weapon slowly, stepping back from the red clad demon a mere few inches and offering him a mischievous smirk.

         Kankri nodded almost imperceptibly, tail springing to life as it knocked a row of jarred souls off of the shelf behind him, the glass shattering around the pair, drawing Father's attention away for a brief moment as smoke filled the room. "Go!" He cried.

        Springing backward, Dirk lifted himself into the air, tossing his body as if were nothing more than sandpaper over Father’s head in a flip. Just as he was above, the souls of his shoes barely scraping the ceiling, Dirk lowered his sword, swiping it to the side and cutting off the tip of the Man’s hat.  Collapsing to the ground, he rolled aside, coming to rest on one knee as he sliced the blade upward along the far wall, make-shifting a portal.

 The blonde glanced back.

"Go see Aranea Serket!" Kankri called after him. "Tell her I sent you-!" Kankri was silenced as he was slammed against the wall, head snapping back, leaving a dent in the stone, eyes squeezing shut as he felt blood drip down the back of his neck, scalding hot. "D-ietrich..." he mumbled weakly, opening one eye in time to see him disappear.

"I always told you that tongue would get you in trouble," Father warned, his fingers wrapping around Kankri's neck, his free hand wrenching the demon's mouth open.

                                                                                             -o-

 The sun was just beginning to set behind the skyscrapers, old and decaying slowly, casting an eerie light through the abandoned upper floors of the dilapidated buildings. This had once been a thriving section of the city where Humans and Others lived in unity, but it had since been torn apart by antiOther societies. Dirk recognized graffiti of the Demon Hunters his brother lead dirtying a brick wall. His heart sank a bit at the sight.

He glanced down at the paper he had scrawled a map onto, then up to a rusted street sign emblazoned with "Arachnid Avenue", continuing down that street. He paused before the only building with any sign of life, consisting of a pot of forget-me-nots beside the door and a window display with "Serket's 8ooks and Such" imprinted on the glass. He opened the door, a bell chiming to announce his arrival. A girl with dark grey skin looked up from her book, a grin spreading across her blue lips to reveal her sharp fangs. "Welcome!" She chimed, closing the book before her on the counter, resting her arms on the wooden surface, folded beneath her large breasts barely covered by the silky webbing of her collar, smooth, blue tinted skin un-obscured by her side less dress.

 "I'm looking for Aranea?" He answered abruptly, looking around the shop, cobwebs in the corners and dusty artifacts strewn about.

 "That would be I!" The female behind the counter chimed, "What may I do for you, mortal?"

"A friend told me to come here. For a book on the Heavenly Trials?" Dirk picked up a magic 8-ball sitting on the counter, gazing it over.

 The demon's eyes narrowed. "What would a mortal need with that information?"

In answer, Dirk removed his glasses, revealing his bright orange irises.

  
The demon's own cerulean eyes widened in revelation. "A Soulless? Delicious. Does Father know you're here?" Her bispeckled eyes narrowed.

  
Dirk disregarded the question with direct blatancy. "Kankri said you'd know about the book."

"Kankri!" The demon's blue lips curled into a smile. "You should have said that from the beginning! Give me one moment..."

  
Dirk watched as the horned creature turned from the counter, revealing six more arms, explaining the dress choice. "Aracnecis..." he realized. A spider girl.

  
Just as he mumbled this, the Aracnecia turned, a dusty tome clutched in two of her hands, another swiping off the accumulation on the cover. "Here we are!”

  
                        Turning to hand Dirk the book, Aranea’s eyes suddenly widened. “The walls…” She breathed in surprise, glancing closer at the wood paneling. A thin gossamer webbing dancing along the enclosure, waddling ominously. She laughed in disbelief, “It wor-”

            The sound of shattering glass cut off her astonished inquiry, wood splintering and book shelves crashing to the ground, spilling their contents.

"You were followed?!" Aranea demanded when a fiery blur ripped past, tearing the book from her hands: One of Father's Hellhounds.

  
Dirk froze, meeting the monster's gaze briefly before it then bolted, taking the tome with it. Dirk gave chase, on the creature in mere seconds, trailing it to the back of the shop, back to the portal from whence it came.

                       The Soulless scowled, needing to keep the monster from vanishing with his only chance of regaining his soul. His coppery eyes traveled to the webbing on the ceiling, drawing his sword and slicing across the gossamer strands, bringing the web down on the Hellhound, adhesive enough to make it hesitate. It dropped the book and snarled, its bony, emaciated body whipping about to free itself, fearful canines tearing at the web, mouth dripping with saliva. Dirk dove for the book, crying out when his forearm was caught between the creature's jaws, snapping down and double locking over the limb.

               Dirk screamed, more in frustration than in pain as his fingers closed around the book. He drew a knife from his thigh holster, bringing it down in the Hellhound's shoulder, wincing at the sharp cry of pain it emitted, like nails on chalkboard against his ear drums. He continued to drive the knife into its shoulder; however, wrenching bone from socket until it freed his bloody slab of an arm, whining in pain as Dirk pulled the book close to his chest, arm oozing thick black bile onto the floor.

             The Soulless's eyes screwed shut as he tried to breathe through the pain, his left arm searing in agony. He cracked an eye open when he heard nails sliding against wood, the Hellhound rising to its feet, eyes alight with one thing on its mind: Revenge.

 It shredded through the web with ease, launching itself at Dirk with a vicious roar, he himself just barely ducking out of the way to avoid those fierce canines inches from his throat.

              He fell back onto his good arm, scrambling to his feet, nearly slipping in the pool of blood coming from his arm. He retrieved the knife, pulse pounding in his ears as he steadied himself for the Hellhound's next attack, the creature scrambling to its feet, shoulder gaping to reveal the rotted muscle and blackened bone beneath its thin, charcoal pelt. Dirk readied his knife, murmuring, "Nice dog...want the book, boy?"

              The monster's ears perked and its deadly gaze settled on the book in Dirk's hands. It growled, warningly, muscles going taut before its powerful hind legs launched it at the Soulless, teeth glinting dangerously, already stained with Dirk's blood. His sweat and bile slicked palm clutched the knife, the book tucked under his good arm. Sunset eyes narrowing, he watched the Hellhound drive at him through the air, then struck, driving the knife into the soft underside of the beast's belly, dragging the knife upward. It gave a final cry as its rotting guts spilled onto the ground, the creature's body still living in agony. He knelt down and dragged the knife across its throat, ending it.

         Dirk allowed his eyes to roam over the creature for a bit, it’s emaciated frame small and vulnerable, black fur cropped short, build much like a greyhound's. The Soulless wondered distantly if this creature was once a living thing, happy and able to enjoy life. He was drawn out of his reverie, however, by a sharp pain in his arm, alerting him that he was still bleeding badly. A voice came from behind him in the rubble.

 "You knew..." it hissed.

        Dirk turned in time to see Aranea, fangs bared. "You _knew_ Father was aware Kankri sent you! You did!" She said accusingly. She didn't give him an opportunity to retort. "Where is Kankri?" She demanded. "What did you do to him?! What have you _done?_ "

-o-

               The night was chilled with the threat of autumn. A soft wind blew through the vacant street, the sound of forlorn trash rattling along the sidewalk the only sound for blocks on far. If it had not been for the demolition of a nearby lamp, a flawless night sky about would have gone unnoticed by the blonde as he walked.

              A good distance from the shop, his pace slowed to a calm stride, hands shoved in his pockets. He looked up, and at the sight of the stellar images, was overwhelmed with a strange sense if tranquility. Clutching the book against his side, he basked in the faint, pale glow of the crescent moon that watched over him, features defined in the illumination, hair and almost white, lips curled in a docile smile. No matter how obscure, Dirk contemplated, that night, he swore, was the first time in eight years that he felt warmth.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! I'd like to take this time to do two rather important things.
> 
> 1\. I want to deeply apologize for the long wait. Some issues came up that made this chapter a bit difficult to work on, and I do hope this insert has done the story much justice in your eyes. 
> 
> 2\. As not many know, this story has two writers. Surprising? No? Good. And because it is I who posts the chapters, the co-writer feels as if she is not getting the credit that is needed, which I want to give her right now. All props to her. She really picked up the slack with this chapter and made it something I could be proud of. She's made this whole story something I can be proud of.
> 
> As have all of you.  
> I, we, thank you deeply for your support. 
> 
> Much love! And hope you continue to enjoy~ :'D


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Tell me what it is you know about the Soulless," Dave at last spoke...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! Wonderful readers! It's so nice speaking with you again, it's been quite long since the last update, I do believe, and for that, both me and the co-author of this work deeply apologize. With school have let out recently, graduation, and the roaring first few weeks of summer, we weren't able to find the time to upload any new progress. Which we regret. But! We're back, and hopefully for a good while, too. We do hope you enjoy this new chapter, and thank you, thank you, thank you so much for keep up interest! 
> 
> Much love~!

           His eyes were void, atramentous in their blank stare. The candle flames that littered the diminutive chamber swayed in dance, although no breeze was present. Such illumination cast an ominous shadow over the two silhouettes, sitting adjacent of each other before a round table. The very air was suffocated with thaumaturgy.

            “Tell me what it is you know about the Soulless.” Dave at last spoke, features ever stoic, tone cold and indifferent. He crossed his arms.

The stranger gave a toothy smile, staring, despite his blindness, straight through the blonde. His features were more defined as he animated himself into the conversation, shifting in his throne-back seat; his forehead was littered with asperous scars, Dave found, as his raven-like hair brushed to the side with his movements. In the evanescent lambency it seemed as if they still bled, fresh as the nightmare from which they occurred.

“What,” The other answered after a moment of pause, “would a mortal like you need with that information?” His voice was nasal, irritating. “Does your greedy little human heart desire something you can’t quite have?” He spoke with a lisp. “A girl won’t have you back? Fame isn’t quite as simple as the movies made it out to be?” He proceeded to mock. “Humans,” the air caught on the final ‘s’ with a hiss, “never pleased, always willing to throw away what sets you apart from any other rabid, blood thir-“

“Save the morality speech,” Dave interrupted, rolling his eyes as he uncrossed his arms, leaning forward and folding his hands together on the table, “I’m not trying to become a Soulless.” He paused, aviators glinting, “I’m hunting one.”

A bell sounded in the distance of another room, preceded by the patter of small footsteps along the hardwood floor. A small shadow moved across the length of the confinement, and with a silent pounce jumped onto the shoulder of the one sitting across from the Strider.

It purred gently, curling around his neck.

“The one and only,” The blonde chuckled, “I was wondering when The Seer’s famous familiar-“

“His name is KK.”

Dave nodded, “I was wondering when _KK_ would show up.”

The creature, eyes golden, watched the teenager closely, tail flicking, bright red collar pronounced against its black fur. Dave watched it right back with a curious indifference.  

“And you can call me Sollux,” The Seer conceded.

“How informal for a prophet.”

“What can I say,” He smirked, “I’m a people person.”

“So, tell me Sollux,”

Karkat gave an indigent, low, mewl.

“He doesn’t like your tone.” The prophet smirked.

“Do excuse me,” Dave sardonically remarked, “if I don’t care for the feelings of a cat.”

Sollux only chuckled, the feline hopping from his shoulder, disappearing for a moment, before a bare, pale figure appeared; it’s back to the two. He had short, black and messy hair, and his bones protruded in a little less than grotesque manor, collar still present around his now humanoid neck.

Dave blinked in surprise, although he should have been expecting it.

“Do not speak as if you know us.” Sollux assured.

Dave didn’t flinch. “Are you going to help me or not?”

           The Seer stood, “As much as I would like to, kid,” he shrugged, “I can’t.”

“What?” Dave narrowed his eyes.

“Look, I know I have a lisp, but I know I didn’t studded. I can’t help you.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

There was a pause. The air tense, but the front door swinging open on its own was more answer than was needed.

“Don’t let it hit you on your way out.” Sollux amended, back already turned to the blonde, seeming to float as he walked.

Dave scoffed, rolling his eyes, “Thanks for everything,” he remarked sarcastically, “I’d say it was a pleasure but you’d see right through it.”

The bell upon the door rang for the last time of the night as it came to a close, Dave stepping out onto the cobblestone walkway outside.

-o-

Sollux held the edge of the table in a deathly tight grip, kneeling over; his sacred head in his hands.  With haste, his chest rose and fell.  From behind the Seer, Karkat approached with a ginger step, careful not to frighten him.

“You know we cannot simply let him walk away.” The Familiar gazed out the window at the pale blonde hair gleaming white in the light of the moon as it wandered off down the abandoned city street. “There must be countless bounties on his head by now, and you know how much we need-“

“No!” Sollux shouted, nearly toppling over as he spun around swiftly. He gripped his Karkat’s wrist, empty eyes gazing past him “I know what he is; I see it…his past, his future. That boy…that boy is an abomination! He is impossible! I will have none of it! He means only trouble for me…I see only black, black…black and streets of red, oh yes, yes, yes…” He mumbled, stumbling away, “pretty, pretty blonde will be no more, no more; his lips will run with black haha…”

Karkat gnawed at his lower lip, but with the simple shake of his head he decided it needed no more thought.

There was only the soft patter of padded feet along the hardwood floor, and the movement of a misused doggy door, before the chamber was once again forlorn.

-o-

“Fuckin’ worthless waste of my time, stupid profit thinks he knows a damn thing…” Dave grumbled bitterly as he fidgeted with the room key. After a few unsuccessful tries he finally managed to push the door open with a stumble, only to be greeted by a dark, empty room. His heart fell for just a moment, but the sadness soon melted to anger and he tossed his bag down on the bed.  

            A sudden loud hiss erupted from the bag, a black cat emerging, narrowing it’s golden eyes at Dave and disappearing into the shadows of the room. Before too long a silhouette soon reappeared in its place, familiar from the time at the shop, only now it was fully clothed, and rubbing its head in irritation. “Way to fucking go, asshole. If the fucking ASPCA still existed, I would have your ass jailed. If jail still existed. What the fuck ever, you get my drift."

            “The fuck?” Dave narrowed his eyes at the other, hand halfway to his weapon, eyes searching, “Did you _follow_ me? Why in the Hell would you do that?”

            Karkat glared, sitting on the bed, “Unfortunately, you seem to be my best hope. Fuck me, right?” He rolled his eyes, looking off with crossed arms. “Sol so owes me for this.”

            “Best hope? That’s the first time I’ve ever heard that. For what?”

            “For getting Master’s eyes back,” he continued as if Dave hadn’t spoken.  “There’s this major douchelord named Eridanus. He’s a wannabe warlock, the son of the Scourge of the Seventh Sea. A long time ago, he and Master had this whole showdown of sorts, and it ended with him tearing out Sollux’s eyes,” Karkat adopted a pained expression. “Since then, Master hasn’t...been the same. I don’t have any _real_ powers, per say, so I can’t exactly do much in terms of getting his eyes back. That’s where you come in, pretty boy.”

            “You want _me_ to get that asshole’s eyes back?” Dave asked with slight astonishment.

            “No shit.”

            “And if I don’t?” he questioned.

            “What was that you wanted to know about the Soulless?” Karkat mocked, ears perking up.

            “...fuck. Fucking fuck me,” he sighed.

            “Good. So we have a deal. Here’s the plan…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! We did a thing~♥ 
> 
> Go and follow us on Tumblr at the-burningmoonlight-blog.tumblr.com


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirk was suddenly plunged into an icy cold ocean, sinking into the black water easily, dragged down.
> 
> "I'm in way over my head..."

            The salted sting of seawater blew against his disheveled tuff of light blonde hair, luminous red eyes blinking through the mist-like smog that rose over the habitual, churning currents. Stepping out from the shadows, Dave gazed upon the scenery that laid itself out; a long, wooden pathway  a dock of sorts, leading out to vast ocean, where a graveyard of abandoned boats and ships floated aimlessly.

         Dave lifted his hand to shield his unshaded eyes from the array of gaslights lined up along the pathway, burning through the haze of darkness. In doing so, he could see where this place had once held life. Where there had been the patter of feet, of adventurers and explorers, there were now rotted planks and holes; where there might have once been a welcoming walkway, there were ropes and chains scattered about, blocking his steps. What had once been sturdy and possibly even safe, now shifted and swayed with each ripped and wave as the tide drew in and out.

         Stepping forward, he shifted his weight to look down below him, to the water, and to his surprise it was far more than murky, it was black, pitch-dark, almost ichor-like. Even under the light of the nearly full moon he was unable to see through to whatever life might continue to live underneath. He knelt down, hand lowered to the water  with a careful caution. His fingers just barely grazed the water when he recoiled with a sound of disgust. The water, or hardly so, was a thick ichor, a resine almost, sticking to his fingertips with a slick sound as the rubbed them together.  It was almost as if it were blood, a swarthy, disturbingly familiar color of blood.

       Dave pulled his hand back quickly, thoughts flashing back to the cut he had made on his brother’s shoulder, seeing the substance pour from his pale skin; the monster it had revealed.

_No_. He gasped softly, spinning around on his heel to survey the grounds.

This was no pier, and what he looked over was not simply an ocean.

It was a brine that ran with the blood of countless demons.

        “Young hunter,” An ominous voice suddenly spoke, seeming to rise from the very waters under his feet, encasing him, “Do you not know how I hate to be kept waiting."

                                                                                                                                  -o-

          “The first obstacle is not concrete,” the letters burned into the wood, “Yet until you see it, it will not be complete.”

Dirk only groaned. “Yeah, I fucking get it,” he bemoaned. “I gotta see somethin’ inside myself or whatever. Now, if  you could  tell me what that is, I’d be much obliged.”

        “Ohh, but  that’s no fun,” scalded itself within the pentagram Dirk had scrawled on the wooden floor of the attic he rested in, appreciating the convenience of the abandoned house. He rolled his eyes up to the crooked ceiling as the letters appeared, “A victory is more worth it when it is by yourself won-”

“Okay, goodbye,” the soulless sighed, tossing a handful of salt into the circle to break the bond, wincing at the high-pitched shriek that emanated as the demon was sucked away. “Christ, what I wouldn’t give to have Kankri right now…” he mumbled, rubbing his forehead.

Dirk reclined against the stone chimney that ran through the attic to the roof, listening to the creaking of the ancient house he had stowed himself away in. Branches brushed against the walls outside, tearing at the worn wood, echoing throughout the attic, throughout his head. He inhaled the scent of the mildew, the gentle rot that slowly consumed the house around him, only reminding him of his failings. He turned his head to see the book sitting beside him, just visible in the dying firelight of the pentagram, reduced to smoldering embers. In a fit of rage, the soulless grabbed the book, tossing it across the room with a cry. It thumped pathetically against the wall and fell, lifelessly.

_Nothing is working_ , he thought irritably, _Not one damn thing has even got me on the path to getting my soul back. Everything is just cryptic bullshit that leads to more cryptic bullshit!_

He paused, staring at the book for a long while, as if in doing so he would suddenly receive the answers he sought. But he didn't. Of course,he sighed. Because real life doesn't work that way. He pressed himself to stand, walking over to the book and picking it up, gazing at it a bit longer. His hand ran over the leather bound cover, over every symbol carved into the book. His fingers stopped on the reflective glass that sat in the center, surrounded by a pyramid rune, spreading out into the other carvings.

     “Fuck...okay. They’ve all said something like that. I have to see somethin’ that ain’t there...Jesus, where’s that little know it all when I need him?” He bemoaned. “He knows about all this cryptic shit. Sound’s like somethin’ he’d say even...’The first obstacle isn't concrete, but until you see it, it won’t be complete…’”

Dirk turned, laying back against the wall and sliding down to sit against the wall, resting the book against his knees as he stared at it. “Something intangible that you can see...what would Kanny tell me? ‘Think about it, Dietrich!’” he mocked with an obnoxious tone. “But I am thinking…” his voice trailed off. Then it clicked. The reflective glass in the triangle. “A mind’s eye!” He suddenly grinned. “Thank you, Kankri!” He sighed in relief, then a wave of guilt washed over him as he remembered he had no idea where he was, or if he was even alive. He frowned as he realized that was true of a lot of people he knew.

He shook off the thought. “Never mind. If I can get my soul back I’ll be able to find out. Now, what did he tell me about Mind’s Eyes?” he mumbled to himself. “Shit...okay, he lectured you on this, Dirk, think..."

**** _"I'm honestly not surprised you don't know what it is! Not many people are in touch with themselves in such a way to actually be aware of what's inside of themselves! Well...most individuals have souls..." Kankri trailed off. "However! Most individuals that are without a soul do not know what power they have in their possession, or moreover, gain when they lose such a useless thing. Then again, I suppose that information being common knowledge would not sit well with Him..."_

_This caught Dirk's attention, drawing it away from a book that turned its own pages and highlighted its own text, no doubt of Kankri's creation. "Why? What's the deal with it?"_

_"I think I've said enough, for once," he declared, shutting the book Dirk held and shelving it..._

"Because the Mind's Eye leads you to the first Trial without a soul in the way... Yes," he smiled. "Thank you, Kankri. Okay," he stood, taking a deep breath. "I gotta relax," he sighed, setting the book on a shelf, lining it up at eye level. He shook out his hands, letting his shoulders sag, releasing the tension in his body before he lifted his head, meeting the reflective gem in the book cover, taking a deep breath as his eye was reflected. The gem glinted, and the reflection of his eye held his gaze, unblinking, feeling penetrating...yet it didn't feel like it was enough. Dirk swore, pulling the book off the shelf. "What do I do?" He demanded, turning the book over to realize there was another gem on the opposite side. He opened the book, laying it on the shelf, cover out, and eased the tension down again, letting it melt away before he met the book's jewels. Dirk didn't even have time to swear as he felt himself pulled forward, yanked from the flood he stood on, sent plummeting through darkness.

It surrounded him as he fell, dragged down further and further through a seemingly endless tunnel of darkness. He shut his eyes against the all consuming blackness, holding his breath, not knowing what was at the bottom, if he was playing with magic he shouldn't be.

_But isn't that what I've been doing this whole time?_ He asked himself. _I'm in way over my head..._

Dirk was suddenly plunged into an icy cold ocean, sinking into the black water easily, dragged down. He struggled against it, fighting to rise to the surface, feeling his breath draw short. He broke through, panting as he tried to catch his breath, pushing his hair from his face and glancing around, amber eyes wide. 

_I’m in way over my head..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hip-hip hooray! Another chapter~! I hope you wonderful readers enjoyed! (´ ▽ ` )ﾉ
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	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'I’m in over my head…'
> 
> It's hair was jet black, claws clicking against each other as it watched Dirk hungrily. The Soulless peered closely at the demon before him, realizing why the creature looked so familiar...

_I’m in over my head…_

Dirk turned about in the water, seeing miles of ocean around him, the moon blaring overhead, glinting off of the water, burning his unshaded retinas after the initial pitch black drop. The water was ice on his bare arms. He covered his eyes with the curve of his hand, looking up to the moon, huge in the dark, starless sky, a pulsing blood red, thrumming steadily, rocking the waves around him in a parody of the tides. The Soulless allowed his eyes to adjust, looking about again, noticing a glint in the distance. The waves broke to reveal land, a large arch adorning an island in the distance. He took a deep breath, beginning to swim against the tide to reach the shore, slowly acclimating to the frigid water. He swore as he realized the tide was literally working against him, pulling him away from the island. Dirk took a deep breath and dove beneath the water, opening his eyes against the salty water to see only darkness consuming the depths beneath him. He pressed on as far as his lungs would take him under the impelling waves, bursting through the surface to breathe before diving below once more, the blackness beneath him unnerving. He continued to swim until his lungs burned, arms straining against the force of the waves, until, obscured by the black, he crashed against a rock, knocking the breath out of him. He gasped, swallowing a mouthful of water as he scrambled onto the rock, coughing and sputtering as he managed to drag himself up above the waves. The Soulless wiped his mouth, resting his head on his arms as they trembled, trying to catch his breath.

All noise ceased suddenly, the steady thrum of the moon, the crashing of the waves, everything. The only thing he could hear was his own thudding heart in his ears, breathing labored. Dirk raised his head to see the ocean, still as the dead, surface like glass, pitch dark. His gaze turned to the island, closer now, and sighed in relief, standing on the rock he perched on to see the source of the glint much more clearly, an arch standing across the length of the land, about fifty meters across. He carefully stepped to another stone, then another, easing his way to the shore with caution, abhorrent to the idea of plunging back into that cold water again, hypothermia unappealing. He pitched forward on his last leap, slipping on the unsteady sand, hands flying out to break his fall, crying out as he discovered the “sand” was instead thin shards of glass, fine and sharp and sinking into his skin with ease. He quickly caught himself, crouching as he swore, hissing at the sharp pain before dunking his hands into the water, his blood so dark it was undetectable in the pitch black ocean.

Then, the glass began to glow. Dirk brushed his damp bangs from his face, glancing over his shoulder, light emanating from the arch. He stood, facing the glow, drawn to the warmth the structure gave off, and approached, engulfed in warmth. He shut his eyes, letting it pull him in.

_Then he woke up._

He turned over in bed, eyes fluttering open as he groaned, the light of day streaming in through the window, nearly causing him to cringe. He was taken aback when it didn’t burn.

_Home..._  Something said through the silence.

Dirk looked over to find a bed resting on the other side of the room, empty, bright red sheets strewn about.

_Dave’s already up…_ a voice in the back of his mind whispered, causing him to sit up with a start.

“Dave,” He breathed.

He tossed his legs over the side of the bed, feet hitting the cool hardwood with a soft pat as he ambled  forward, limbs unconsciously leading him to the bathroom.  When he barely reached the height of the sink, he pushed the plastic green stool in front of the sink with his foot. Splashing water in his face, he then caught a glimpse of his reflection, damp face pale and round with youth, silvery blond hair swept across his forehead.

He was...a kid?

Dirk startled as a sudden banging rattled the bathroom door. “Hey, loser! You’re hogging up the bathroom time!”

“I..uh, yeah, sorry!” he returned, heart hammering in his chest, unlocking and opening the door to face his brother who gave him a sharp glare for a brief moment, his blood red eyes cold before the expression melted into a smile, giggling quietly. “I’d say morning,” Dave greeted as he passed by his brother, “but it’s not!” He giggled again, slamming the door behind Dirk and locking him out.

“What’s all the bangin’?” A gruff voice called from the kitchen.

_Your brother is alive…_ The voice came again, causing Dirk’s stomach to twist in agony, heart aching bitterly. 

Dirk stepped out into the hall, body leading him to the kitchen, “Bro?” He said, voice shaking, stepping onto the tiled flooring.

“Yeah?” The eldest answered, looking up from his freshly made mug of coffee, hat already secured on his tuft of spiked blonde hair. He still looked the same.

“I...uh,” Dirk choked out, searching for words, “can I...can I have some coffee?”

“Sure, squirt,” his older brother smirked. “Want that in a sippy cup?”

“Bro, I’m seven!” Something forced him to say in protest, to which he only laughed. Seven?

**"** Yeah, yeah. I’ll make it in a sec. Why don’t you go wait in the other room? I'll bring it out to ya." There was something unnerving about the way he smiled.

Dirk wandered into the living room, setting himself on the couch and turning on the television when he noticed a sword laying unsheathed on the floor. He stood, picking it up and holding it with ease, something he shouldn’t have been able to do at his age. He glanced over to the picture frame on the side table, letting the sword drag idly as he picked up the frame, looking over the picture of him and his brothers.

_This is my family..._ he thought distantly as he looked close at the photograph, Darren with his arms around his younger brothers’ shoulders, Dave with his headphones on and Dirk with-

His hand went to his hip, where he still held the sheathed sword, the same one in the picture.

Looking back to the picture, Dirk found that it had changed completely. They were all older.

He frowned, brow furrowing.

“Whatcha doin’ there kiddo?” Dirk recoiled in terror at the voice that came from his brother as he entered the room, the frame in his hand slipping to the coffee table with a crash. He looked over slowly to find his once smiling brother now a bloody mess, eyes black, smiling a twisted smile that was all teeth.       

 A clatter in the bathroom drew Dirk’s attention, and he stood abruptly, running off down the hall. His bro’s head turned grotesquely, neck snapping, following after him. “Where you going, Dirky? Don’t you want coffee?"

            The Soulless shuddered, opening the door to see Dave lying on his side in a puddle of blood, holding his throat where a gaping wound spurted blood, bubbling up  between his fingers and running over to stain the linoleum. He cried out, suddenly pulled back by his older brother's doppelganger, a cup forced against his mouth, a thick black bile sliding down his throat. He struggled, gagging and retching until his “brother” released him, letting him fall to his knees as he puked, the ichor spilling from his throat, splashing against the wood and seeping out, bilious and reflective. He stared into it, watching as his expression changed, aged, scleras melting into black, cheeks hollowing with hunger, eyes shadowed with haunting memories, hair falling in front of his face as it lengthened. He gasped as the house around him burst into flames, consuming his brothers, the walls that held his memories. He shut his eyes, trying to calm himself, head hanging low. "It's a dream..." he whispered. "It isn't real...!" He opened his eyes, another face appearing over his shoulder, a wicked grin on his features.

Dirk turned, taking in the creature's twisted appearance. It's sick grin revealed razor sharp teeth lined with black lips, black freckles on its high cheekbones. It's ears orbited turned, focused, pierced and pointed, tail whipping about, skin a pallored grey. It's hair was jet black, claws clicking against each other as he watched Dirk hungrily. The Soulless peered closely at the demon before him and realized why the creature looked familiar.

It was him.

-o-

        “He’ll have begun the Trials by now,” Father mused, perched in His dark throne. On his knees before him, crimson eyes turned down to the Obsidian floor, Kankri kneeled, tail flicking about, ears turned down. He narrowed his eyes, anger welling inside of him with no way to be released. His throat itched and burned with the slow healing of what was left of the root of his tongue, restricting his speech and the ability to swallow. He distantly wondered how he could be so parched without a tongue to dry. He glared at Father from the corner of his sanguine eyes, alight from the glowing of the redstone walls, ears twitching with irritation. “Do you think he’s clever enough to have figured out the first puzzle?” He mused.

_Of course_ Kankri thought indignantly. _It’s Dietrich._

“Be that as it may,” Father smirked, “Do you think his little brother is any more clever?”

_I...wouldn’t know, Sir._  He frowned a bit, tail tucking about his person, feeling his imprint’s pain significantly, black heart panging with the echo of loneliness, only magnified by his own. He was glad for the darkness cast over the Throne room for once, obscuring his dark heart on his sweater sleeve. _I never really interacted with him…_

__ “Regardless, humans have a tendency to exhibit a...bleeding heart, so,” he redirected his gaze to the other body in the room, lips curling into a smile. “Your task shouldn’t be a difficult one. Just try not to die in the process. And don’t hesitate to lay on the charm. It shouldn’t be difficult, I’m sure. Considering who you were.”

Kankri cast the figure a pitying glance as it replied with a soft, “Yes, sir,” though it disappeared as he gagged, throat flaring with heat as he wretched, black bile spilling from his mouth as another inch of tongue climbed up his throat like ivy on a trellis, the tissues weaving and layering themselves into another piece of the lost organ. He wiped his mouth on his sweater sleeve, coughing pathetically, drawing a sneer from Father.

“Are you okay?” he heard the voice ask, though before he could signal he was fine, Father scowled.

“I may have given you too many emotions…” He mused. “Never mind. That plays well with Angels. You know what must be done.” The Hellish Officiator cringed as he saw Father’s expression shift so something so much darker, his awful sneer curling into a grin, revealing row after row of razor teeth, so out of place in such a human looking mouth. “Humans always have been such alluring bait.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Finally, another chapter! Phew, that was quite a wait wasn't it? We apologize thoroughly, however! )': Life has just been so hectic and busy there's just been no time to work on this masterpiece! But we assure you we have not yet given up on it and do intend to keep bringing you marvelous demons and blood and gore until the very end~! *:･ﾟ✧
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